


Rutnam Shore

by mnwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel in Glasses, Cheating, Chubby Dean, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Hurt Dean Winchester, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Mystery, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Dean Winchester, Plot Twists, Recreational Drug Use, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-06 05:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnwood/pseuds/mnwood
Summary: Dean Winchester has never been past the city limits of the sleepy town of Rutnam Shore. Except in his dreams, where he travels the country in a classic car and fights mythical beings with his little brother. It's the only time he gets to see his brother, since Sam died in a car crash when they were kids. Dean wants nothing more than to get as far away from Rutnam Shore as he can, but unfortunately he's afraid of driving and feels like he's stuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is...weird, so spoiler-y warnings are at the end of this chapter for some of the more frustrating plot points. If you're a regular reader of mine, I encourage you NOT to read the warnings and just get straight to reading.

 

“Dean! Dean, don’t go over there!”

Ignoring the distant sound of his father’s voice, Dean continues scaling the wall of rocks separating him from the rest of the beach. He’s lived at Rutnam Shore for his entire life and yet this is the first time his parents have taken him to the actual beach. He’s not going to miss out on the opportunity to explore to his heart’s content.

But, as it happens, Dean is only 5 and his legs can only take him so far before his dad scoops him up and carries him back down to the crowded beach.

“You could’ve at least put your shoes on before pulling that stunt,” Dad chastises as he sets Dean down beneath the umbrella and cleans off the bottom of his feet. “Don’t do that again. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbles.

His dad doesn’t say anything else, but Dean knows if he tries to get up and join Mom and Sammy down at the shoreline then his dad will fuss at him again.

So he sits quietly, if a little huffy, and watches as Sam smacks at the sand while sitting in Mom’s lap, the tide gently washing back and forth beneath them.

Eventually Dean turns away. He finds an old woman looking his way, but she quickly averts her gaze toward the water. Dean looks at her a moment longer, but she doesn’t look at him again.

He thinks this must be a perfect day, if he could only climb over that rock.

 

* * *

 

There’s nothing but highway in front of Dean. The light is so dim that he feels like he’s driving through an endless tunnel with nothing but yellow lines to guide him.

He’s been everywhere. He lit up a ghost in Jericho, California, shot a wendigo in Lost Creek, Colorado, saved a boy from drowning in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, and even fought a demon on a goddamn airplane.

He drives one hell of a car, nothing like the beige Volvos lining the driveways of his boring neighborhood or the 18-wheelers that he passes on the lonely highway. His car is one of a kind, and sometimes he thinks of it as his home.

His actual house is both too large and too suffocating, packed full of memories and void of making more. He is safe in his car. He can go far away and never look back.

But then morning comes and he wakes up and the car and the highway and the places he’s been are nothing but a dream.

 

* * *

 

Because his family lives at the beach, Dean’s never been on a proper vacation in his life. For his 10th birthday, Dean asks if they can go to the Grand Canyon. He falls asleep in the back of their Volvo and dreams of highways.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. All he knows is that there are lights blinking far too bright and loud noises all around and his mom is screaming and his dad isn’t in the car and Sammy is—

Sammy is gone.

Dean tries to move out of his seat, but he finds he’s stuck. The back of the driver’s seat is much closer than it was before. He looks down to see that his legs are caught between the seats, and when he tries to move again he feels the skin around his thighs tear. He closes his eyes and tries not to cry and maybe if he thinks hard enough it will all go away.

He never sees the Grand Canyon.

 

* * *

 

On his 18th birthday, Dean skips school and goes to the beach and watches the sunset while he downs a six-pack. In the quiet like this, with nobody else around, he thinks about that car and that highway and how desperately he wishes it were his life.

The dreams sometimes turn to nightmares. The ghosts and the demons and the djinn are all fine—those are the fun parts of the dreams—but the crash is terrifying. His beautiful, imaginary car hydroplanes and spins out until he hits a truck. He swerves to avoid a pothole and gets wrapped around a tree. Someone is driving in the wrong direction and slams into him head-on.

In these dreams, Sammy is there. He’s older, with long, shaggy hair like Mom wouldn’t let him keep as a kid. He has lines in his face and a serious set to his mouth that Dean always jokes is because he spends too much time with his nose in his books studying for school. Sam shakes his head seriously and says that’s not the reason. So Dean asks why he’s stressed. Sam won’t answer.

And in every one of Dean’s nightmares, Sam disappears before the crash. Disappears right out of the car, never to be seen again and suddenly Dean is 10 again and he’s crying for his 7-year-old brother and for the man he never became.

When Dean sleeps, he drives.

When he’s awake, he avoids cars at all costs. Rutnam Shore is a small enough town to bike from one end to the other in a couple of hours, so Dean’s constant biking to school and work every day doesn’t turn any heads.

The beach is a little farther, so he took a bus today. Buses are fine. No matter what day or which stop he gets on, he always ends up next to Ms. Moseley and she always plays a game with him where she guesses what he’s been doing all day and she’s literally always right. He should’ve tired of it by the time he was 14 but here he is four years later still smiling at the thought of her describing how he pretended to bike to school but just did a loop around his neighborhood until he knew his parents were gone and then he went back inside and drank a cup of hot cocoa before walking to the bus stop.

“That’s not fair, I drink cocoa every day.”

“Ah, but do you skip school and bike around your neighborhood every day?”

“I’ve done it probably more times than I should’ve gotten away with.”

“So I had a pretty fair chance of guessing that correctly.”

“Are you saying I’m predictable?”

“You’re not?”

Dean thinks of Ms. Moseley as he watches the sunset, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest. It’s not his birthday, not really. He hasn’t thought of January 24 as his birthday in many years.

It’s the anniversary.

He pulls a crumpled picture of him and Sam out of his pocket and looks at it for a long time. He’s about 8 years old in the picture, Sam about 5 but looks younger because Dean hit a growth spurt at 7. They’re standing side-by-side in the middle of the living room with makeshift superhero costumes on—blankets as capes, torn pillow cases as masks, Mom’s tights pulled on over their shorts. Dean has his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out like Superman, while Sam gives a big thumbs up to the camera. 

Dean huffs a sad laugh as he looks at the black-and-white photo.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Sammy,” he says as he folds the picture up and tucks it away.

 

 

* * *

 

Despite his dad’s insistence that he get a “real degree,” Dean decides to go to Rutnam Community College. It’s actually one of the most prestigious community colleges in the nation, so his dad really can't complain that much. 

Of course, Dean has to live at home, which he isn’t very excited about. He was looking forward to the full college experience: smoking reefer in his dorm room, studying under a lava lamp, gaining the freshman 15 from the nasty laxative-filled cafeteria food.

But the community college is, like everything else, biking distance away, so it doesn’t make sense to live in an apartment near campus.

Quite possibly the best thing about going to Rutnam instead of some big fancy university is that Dean’s best friend Benny also chose the community college route. Coincidentally, they end up in a lot of the same classes.

“I just don’t know if econ’s my thing,” Benny laments as they pack up their backpacks at the end of class on day one.

“Dude, I don’t think econ is anybody’s thing.”

“And that English class? I can’t read 50 pages a day.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I need to go by the library to pick up some books.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Dean?”

Dean shoves him and turns the corner toward the library. “I’ll catch up with you later, man.”

“Sure thing, brother.”

A person bumps into Dean almost as soon as he and Benny part. They mumble an apology and keep walking, but Dean could’ve sworn they said, “Sorry, Dean.” He looks back, but he doesn’t see any familiar shapes in the crowd.

When he gets to the library, he walks up to the front desk and taps his fingers against the wood as he waits for the guy to finish typing away on his computer. He doesn’t really mind waiting; he didn’t have a computer in his house growing up, so he stares at the giant, loud thing and wonders what all it can do.

“What can I help you with today?” the guy asks without looking up. He sounds bored.

“Um, need some books for my English class. Can you look them up on that fancy machine?”

As Dean speaks, the guy snaps his head up and stares long and hard at his face. He has messy dark brown hair and huge Beatnik-adjacent glasses that he pushes up his nose to reveal tired blue eyes.

“Um,” Dean says.

The guy holds his hand out.

Dean gives him his book list.

“Hm. Your teacher’s an asshole, these books are terrible.”

“Great.”

The guy stands and straightens out his vest. “Well, Dean Winchester, let’s get your books.”

Dean is about to ask how he knows his name, but he realizes it must be written at the top of his book list.

They walk through the rows of books together on the second and fourth floors, the guy occasionally stopping to hand Dean what he needs and to explain each time why that specific book is garbage. Dean stares at his ass while he walks and tries not to think about how nice of an ass it is. But it really is a nice ass. He tries harder not to think about it.

“Alright, here’s the last one. _The Screwtape Letters_ because who doesn’t want to be indoctrinated into Christianity on threat of demons orchestrating your entire life?” He shakes his head. “I hear _Narnia_ is much better.”

Dean blinks at him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Well, not _any_ time. I only work in the afternoons, after I get out of class.”

Dean furrows his brow and tries to decipher if this guy is purposely telling him his schedule so that Dean will visit him or if he just speaks literally. “You go to school here?”

“Did you think I was a professional librarian?”

Dean smiles sheepishly. “Kinda, yeah. What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

“I haven’t seen you in any of my classes.”

“I should hope not. I’m a junior, and those books are obviously for a freshman-level course.”

“Junior, huh? You from the area?”

Castiel looks away as he shakes his head, hesitant. “I’m from Burbank. I really should get back to my—”

“Burbank? You came all the way to the East Coast for a fucking community college?”

“I had…” He tilts his head curiously. “An opportunity I couldn’t refuse.”

“Well, that’s not cryptic at all.” Dean shifts his feet and rests his elbow against a bookcase. “Hey, do you think we could—”

A loud crash sounds from behind Dean, followed by a girl shouting an expletive. He turns around and instinctively walks over to her. By the time he remembers himself and turns back toward Castiel, the not-librarian is walking away. 

“God, I’m so clumsy,” the girl says with a laugh as she gathers her books in her arms.

Dean squats down to help her and smiles at a copy of _Jane Eyre._ “Personally, I think she should’ve ended up with St. John.”

“What?” the girl asks.

He awkwardly points at the book. “You haven’t read it yet?”

“Oh! No, I’m checking it out now. For a class.”

“It’s a good book. You can skip the first 100 pages, but it’s still good.” His face heats up. Why is he readily admitting to a cute girl that he likes Charlotte fucking Bronte.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They smile at each other, both their hands on the book until Dean releases it. “I’m Dean.”

“Cassie.”

They smile at each other again.

“You wanna help me carry all these books to my next class?” she asks pointedly.

“Uh, yeah. I got some time.”

On their way out, they pass by Castiel sorting through some books. He mumbles, “It’s pronounced _‘Sinjun,’”_ as they leave.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s dated girls before, but none of them have compared to Cassie. Something about her...he thinks she might be the one.

They’ve been dating for three months when he thinks it the first time. He thinks he might love her, too, but it’s too early to say.

“I married your dad after a dozen dates, Dean, it’s never too soon to say,” his mom would say.

College looks good on Dean. It turns out he did gain the freshman 15 and a little more, but according to Cassie he looks better with it so he doesn’t worry too much about overindulging in his mom’s home-cooked meals every day.

He’s also on the dean’s list, which, yeah, it’s a community college but it still counts. Castiel was right about most of the books, so he’s proud to say he even survived that English class, not to mention passing it with an actual, honest to god A.

He spends a lot of time at the library. He’s learning how to use a computer, and if he could get the hang of typing then he could knock out an essay in an hour flat. Castiel actually saw him struggling one day and offered to teach him some things, but Dean was so embarrassed and flustered that he waved him off and said it was fine.

It isn’t until a week before exams that Dean gets so stressed out that he finally caves and goes to the library specifically for Castiel’s help.

“You look stressed out,” Castiel says as he stares at his computer screen.

“Yeah, um, I need your help.”

He looks up. “What?”

“I need your help on the computer. Your offer still stands, right?”

Castiel looks around as if it’s a trap. “Um, yes. Go over to the computers and I’ll meet you there momentarily,” he says robotically, like he’s reciting a line in a script.

Dean looks at him curiously but listens to him anyway. He’s a weird dude.

When Castiel comes over, he doesn’t pull a chair up beside Dean. Instead, he stands behind him and leans over his back to look at the screen. Dean’s heart speeds a little at the proximity, but he tells himself to straighten up and quit acting like a goddamn fairy. It doesn’t help.

“How have you been, Dean?” Castiel asks as he clicks around and shows Dean the best word processor.

“Pretty good, all things considered.”

“All things considered?”

Right. Everybody in Dean’s life had always known about Sam. Hell, he spilled on his first date with Cassie. He forgets sometimes that not everyone on earth knows. “Uh, never mind. How do I create a header?”

As Castiel shows him, he continues, “Which terrible book do you have to write an essay on?”

“Do you remember every poor sap’s reading list, or just mine?”

“Only the handsome ones,” Castiel replies, completely stone-faced.

Dean chokes back a pathetic whimper.

“These computers haven’t been updated in ages,” Castiel mumbles as he completely takes over the keyboard, still awkwardly positioned standing behind Dean’s chair.

“They look like pretty new machines to me.”

For some reason, Castiel stifles a laugh. It makes Dean feel dumb, but he’s not going to whine about it. What does he care if this asshole thinks he’s an idiot?

“What’s your major, Cas?”

“Are we chummy now? Do I need to think of a shortened version of your name as well?”

“Dean is fine. Answer my question, please.” He tacks on the “please” a little desperately, because Cas was starting to look at him like he had crossed a line. The fucking glasses don’t help with Castiel’s glare.

“Social work.”

“That’s a major here?”

“Yes. What’s yours?”

“Undecided.”

“Freshman,” Castiel mutters bitterly.

They get into a typing lesson, and if Dean purposely screws up so that Cas will cover his hands and move with him, well it’s not like anybody needs to know.

(Liking a guy isn’t cheating on his girlfriend, either. It’s not like it’s the same thing.)

“So, uh, what are you doing over Christmas break?” Dean asks while they type.

Castiel clenches his jaw. “My cousin is coming into town. She graduated early, so she’s staying with me for a while.”

“That’s nice.”

“If I liked her, it would be.”

“Yikes. How long is she gonna be here?”

“Hasn’t been decided yet. What are your plans?”

“Stuffing my face with my mom’s food and chilling with my girlfriend.”

Castiel briefly looks down at Dean’s stomach before moving back up to his eyes. “You have a girlfriend?” he asks disinterestedly.

“Yep. Met her the same time I met you, actually. Weird how that happens.”

“Coincidences are weird.” He clears his throat. “The library is hosting a movie on the quad this weekend. You and your...girlfriend should come out.”

“I gotta study all weekend, but I’ll mention it to her. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“You gonna be there?”

Castiel’s hands hover over the keys, unmoving. “Undecided. Like your major.”

 

* * *

 

“This is so nice. I needed a break from studying,” Cassie says as she and Dean get settled on a blanket in the quad. 

There are a lot of people at this movie, so they’re sitting toward the back of the field with a somewhat obstructed view of the giant projector screen. Dean looks around at everybody in an attempt to see if Cas made it.

“What movie is it again?”

“Uh, _Aliens._ You ever see the first one?”

“No, but I know my dad likes it.”

“Well, you might be a little confused but I’m pretty sure I have it on VHS, so we can always watch it at my house sometime. All you need to know is that there was a killer alien on a spaceship and Sigourney Weaver and a cat are the only ones who survived.”

“Sigourney Weaver and a cat. Got it.”

Dean laughs and kisses her temple. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, only just now noticing that the temperature’s dropped.

There’s a guy sitting by himself directly behind them, and he keeps looking at them both. He seems a little shifty, so Dean scoots closer to Cassie. He runs his fingers up and down her arm and eventually turns toward her. She goes for a close-mouthed kiss, but he pushes his tongue past her lips and she opens up for him easily.

“There are people around, Dean,” she says with a laugh as he continues to chase her mouth.

“Yeah,” he responds hungrily.

“Oh, you _like_ having an audience?”

He shrugs and continues making out with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the guy staring at them. When he pulls away from Cassie, he winks at the guy.

The guy looks away.

 

* * *

 

“You weren’t at the movie,” Dean greets as he walks up to the library’s front desk on Monday afternoon. 

“Indeed I wasn’t. Did Ripley save Newt?” Cas asks without looking up from the computer.

“In _this_ movie, yeah. I hear they’re making a third, though, and Cameron’s not doing it.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

Dean hesitates, wondering if he’s about to reveal too much about himself. He decides to hell with it. “I watch a lot of TV shows about movies. I don’t have a lot of hobbies.”

Castiel smiles gently and looks down at the desk. “How did your girlfriend like the movie?”

“She had a lot of problems with the end. Especially the part where Ripley’s one arm is stronger than a giant alien and all of space.”

“She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.”

Dean leans over the desk. “Hey, what are you doing after this? Wanna get a burger with me?”

Castiel blinks at him. “I don’t get off for another two hours.”

“Oh, OK, um—”

“But I would love to get a burger with you. In two hours.”

There’s something about Castiel’s directness that’s both jarring and calming. It makes Dean’s toes curl just a little. “OK. I’ll be back here in two hours.”

“Two hours.”

“See you soon, Cas.”

In reality, Dean should just stay at the library and study, but instead he goes to find Benny and they smoke in the arboretum while Dean pretends to read a book.

“You want to get some food soon?” Benny asks after clearing out his pipe.

“I’ve got plans, actually. I gotta get going soon.”

“With Cassie?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. It’s—a friend. I’ll catch up with you later, though, OK?”

“Don’t you think you should get some studying done?”

“Weren’t you just offering to hang out with me all night?” Dean huffs a laugh. “You’ve got a problem with me having other friends, don’t you?”

Benny raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I ain’t saying that. Have fun with your new buddy.”

“I will, thanks.”

There is exactly one burger joint near campus, so that’s where Dean and Castiel go. It’s not like this is a date, so Dean doesn’t have to impress him with a fancy restaurant.

He doesn’t have to impress him with manners, either, so Dean orders the biggest, sloppiest burger on the menu and feels a bit of pride when Castiel orders the same. Cas asks for chili cheese fries, too, and Dean thinks he might be a little bit in love.

While they wait for their food, Dean bites the bullet and asks, “So what was the opportunity that brought you to Rutnam Community College of all places?”

Cas’ eyes dart around for a second, as if he’s searching for the answer. “It was a research opportunity that fell through before this semester started.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was worth it, though.”

“How’s that?”

A beat passes. “It got me away from my terrible family.”

“Except for your cousin.”

“Except for my cousin.”

“So, you think you’ll move out here permanently? Settle down by the shore, buy a bicycle?”

“No,” he answers definitively. Always so serious when the situation doesn’t require it. “I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do after…”

“After...graduation?”

“Yes, of course.” He clears his throat. “I suppose a lot of things in my life are...up in the air.”

“Got a girlfriend?” Dean asks even though he knows the answer.

“No. With my strenuous hours at the library, it would be impossible to sustain a relationship.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“I do that sometimes.”

“Is the library job work-study?”

“Something like that,” Cas says, fighting a smile.

Dean wants to ask what’s funny, but their food arrives and they both get distracted for a few minutes. Cas eats like he hasn’t in days, which is all manners of disgusting. Dean tries to keep up with him, but he can feel the future heartburn already and decides that keeping pace isn’t worth it.

“Why did you ask me to dinner, Dean?” Cas asks pointblank.

“Um, wanted to get to know you? I don’t know, you seem like a cool dude.”

“I am definitely not a ‘cool dude.’”

“Well, maybe our definitions are different. How’s your burger?”

“Decadent. What about you, Dean?”

“What _about_ me?”

“What decisions have you not made about your life? How will it all end for you?”

Dean swallows hard. “End? Who said anything about ending?”

Castiel blinks. “I just mean what will you do after college.”

“Oh. Probably get a boring desk job. And, uh, travel.”

“Travel? Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Haven’t you been in Rutnam your entire life?”

Dean doesn’t remember telling Cas that, but he must’ve at some point. “Yeah, so? Doesn’t mean I’m stuck here.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“Everywhere. I was thinking California first.”

That makes Castiel smile. “What’s in California?”

 _Ghosts,_ he stupidly thinks. “It’s just the farthest I can drive, right?”

“And you have a car that will take you there?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“There are much more interesting places to go than California.”

“It’s not about being interesting, it’s about getting as far away as possible.”

Castiel leans back in his seat. “What is it you’re running from, Dean?”

Dean huffs a self-deprecating laugh and scrubs a hand down his face. “You know, I haven’t actually _been_ in a car in about a decade? Don’t even have my learner’s permit.”

“I suppose growing up in Rutnam is much like growing up in a large city. No need to learn to drive when you can bike everywhere.”

“I lost my brother,” Dean blurts out.

Cas blinks at him. Nothing else about his face changes.

“Car accident on my 10th birthday. He was just...he was gone by the time I came to. My parents—they won’t tell me what happened. Just that he…”

“That’s unfair of your parents not to tell you what happened.”

Dean furrows his brow at him. “You think _that’s_ the issue here?”

“I think it would give you closure, if you knew exactly what happened to your brother.”

“He’s dead. That’s all that matters. He’s dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Castiel ducks his head. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to—”

“Dean?”

Dean turns sharply to find Cassie looking down at him. Her eyes dart between Dean and Cas.

“Cassie, hey,” Dean says as he stands up. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Picking up some takeout.” She holds up a bag. “I thought you said you were going home tonight?”

“Oh, um, I made plans with Cas last minute. This is Cas, by the way. He works at the library.”

“Hi, Cas who works at the library,” Cassie says awkwardly as she shakes Cas’ hand. “Nice name.”

“You, too,” Cas replies. “Are you Dean’s girlfriend?”

Dean says, “She is,” at the same time Cassie says, “I am.”

“Well, then, you’re welcome to join us, Cassie.”

Cassie gives Dean a look.

“Actually, Cas, uh, I should probably go with Cassie. It was nice hanging out with you though.” He puts his hand on the small of Cassie’s back and makes a move toward the door.

“I’ll see you in the library, Dean,” Cas says with an edge to his tone, his eyes on Cassie.

Yikes. Dean kind of wants to get away from both of them.

Once he and Cassie are outside, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and walks toward the library so he can get his bike. He lets out a strained breath and grabs his stomach with his free hand.

“I ate too much,” he says, just to break the awkward silence.

“So you met Cas at the library?”

“Yeah. He’s cool.”

“He seems weird.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah.”

“You gonna start hanging out with him as much as you hang out with Benny?”

“You jealous?”

“No, of course not.” She hugs his belly. “I just want you all to myself.”

Dean tenses a bit. “You want to come home with me tonight? See if my mom made any pie?”

“Didn’t you say you ate too much?” She pats his stomach sweetly.

“Always room for pie.”

There’s no pie when they get to Dean’s house, but Cassie is in a physical mood and makes him forget all about his earlier conversation with Cas.

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that he doesn’t study nearly as much as he planned to, Dean still aces all of his exams. He spends the entirety of the break doing absolutely nothing and it's amazing. 

On his first day back to school, he wakes up bright and early and makes himself a cup of cocoa while his mom cooks breakfast.

“What’s that smell?” Dean asks.

“Heart Healthy breakfast I found in Healthy Cooking Magazine. I figured we would try something different,” his mom recites like she’s reading an ad.

“Uh, why?”

She avoids eye contact with Dean as she says, “Your jeans are getting a little tight, baby.”

His face flushes. “You think I need to lose weight?”

 _“Manage_ your weight, sweetie.” She kisses his cheek as she sets the healthy breakfast on his plate. “Man can’t live on pie alone.”

Dean stares at the plate before pushing it away. “I’ll, uh, skip breakfast today. See you later, Mom.”

He rushes out before she can stop him. His mom’s never been so straightforward about something so shitty before. It’s what he expects from his dad, not Mom. Which means Dad is probably the one who told Mom to say something.

He feels sick for the entire bike ride to campus, so he circles the buildings a few times until he works up a sweat. It makes him feel worse, especially as he huffs and puffs and wipes his brow on his way into class. A couple of people look at him. He takes a seat in the back, and more people turn and look at him.

As he’s pulling his notebook out of his backpack, a gruff voice speaks from his right.

“Tough bike ride today?”

Dean whips his head around and stares at Cas’ profile. “What are you doing in this class?”

“I miscounted my gen eds apparently.” A small smile curves his lips. “I didn’t know you’d be in this class.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I have some time after class. Late breakfast?”

Dean’s stomach grumbles in response. “Yeah, that would be great, actually.”

The professor starts her lecture, so Cas writes Dean a note and loudly rips the page out of his notebook to hand it over.

It reads, _We can go to Breadmen’s._

 _As long as you’re buying,_ Dean writes.

When Dean hands the note back, Cas reads it and then shrugs at him. Dean grins.

Breadmen’s is a little bit of a walk, but Dean needs the exercise, right? Of course, he fully intends on ordering the biggest, greasiest, grossest thing on the menu just to spite his mom, but that’s beside the point.

“How was your break?” Dean asks as they walk.

“Uneventful. I’ve spent most of it trying to avoid Anna.”

“Anna? Oh, your cousin?”

Cas nods and clenches his jaw.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“I don’t _hate_ her. We just have, um, differing opinions on important issues. It’s difficult to get along with her.”

“I get that. Part of the reason why I only have one friend.”

“Benny?”

“How do you know about Benny?”

“You mentioned him.”

“I did?”

“Of course.”

They get to the restaurant and, as promised, Dean orders the exact opposite of a heart healthy breakfast.

“My mom told me this morning I need to lose weight,” Dean says after the server leaves.

“And you didn’t take kindly to it?”

“No, Cas, I didn’t.”

“How much weight have you gained since you started college?”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Why did I bring this up?”

“It’s clearly bothering—”

“You think I look any different?”

Cas’ eyes scan up and down. He makes direct eye contact as he says, “It’s noticeable that you’ve put on weight, but you don’t look bad. The only reason why your mom is concerned is because—um, she cares about you.”

“That ain’t usually how she shows it.”

“Maybe she sees you as an adult now and it worries her. I wouldn’t dwell too much on this, Dean.”

Their server brings them their drinks and apologizes in advance for their food taking a long time on account of the kitchen being backed up. Dean’s stomach grumbles unhappily.

“You don’t think I should go on a diet?” Dean asks, resting his forearms on the table to lean in closer to Cas.

“I think you should do whatever you think you should do.”

“Ugh.”

“I understand the sentiment.”

When their food arrives, Dean feels heat rise to his cheeks at the prospect of eating his huge plate in front of Cas. It shouldn’t bother him, really, but now that he’s stuck on it there’s nothing he can do about it.

Castiel, of course, tucks into his own plate and pays no mind to Dean’s inner turmoil.

“Is ketchup a vegetable?” Cas asks as Dean pours some next to his hash browns.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Then your mom should be happy.”

“You’re absolutely right.” He pours more ketchup on his plate.

After a beat of silence, Cas says, “You know you don’t have to do what everyone wants you to do.”

“What?”

“If your mom wants you to lose weight, you don’t have to lose weight.”

“I know that,” Dean answers defensively before biting off a sausage link.

“OK. Good,” Cas says awkwardly.

“You don’t really, uh, talk to people a lot, do you?”

“As a general rule, no.”

“Then why do you hang out with me?”

Cas squints at him. “You’re different.”

“No, I’m not. I’m exactly the same as everybody else in this sleepy town.”

A girl at a table nearby gives Dean a judgmental look. He smiles at her and turns back to Cas.

“Trust me. You’re different,” Cas says definitively.

Dean doesn’t try to argue again.

As they’re heading out the door a few minutes later, they very nearly bowl over a girl on her way in.

“Excuse—oh, hey, Cas,” she says with a shit-eating grin on her face. She looks at Dean and then back to Cas and then back to Dean. “Who’s your friend?” she asks, and for some reason it sounds sarcastic.

“This is Dean. Dean, this is Anna,” Cas replies flatly.

Dean sticks his hand out and gives her a winning smile. “I’ve heard things about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Nope, not really,” Dean responds easily.

Cas snorts a laugh.

“Oh. Well, thanks a lot, Castiel,” she says bitterly.

“No problem, Anna. We’ll be going now.”

“Wait!”

Cas rolls his whole head over as he turns back toward her.

“You should invite Dean over sometime.” She gives Dean a onceover. “I’d like to get to know him.”

“Sure, Anna,” Cas says. “Goodbye.”

Once they’re outside, Castiel huffs and shakes his head and clenches his fists at his sides.

“Dude, it’s fine,” Dean says lightheartedly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing where you live.”

“Are you inviting yourself over?”

“Technically I’m just accepting Anna’s invitation. She can’t be that bad, dude.”

“Fine. I’ll let you decide for yourself.” Cas stops walking and stands directly in front of Dean. “I’m late for work.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I don’t mind.”

Cas hesitates. “O...K,” he eventually says.

Dean looks at him curiously. He’s a weird little dude.

 

* * *

 

The squeak in Dean’s bedframe is getting worse even though he just put some WD-40 on it a week ago. He knows his parents aren’t idiots, they know what he and Cassie are doing in his locked room all the time, but Dean has enough pride to wish he could prevent them from _hearing_ it.

Cassie seems to think it’s hilarious. “Maybe if you slowed down a little, it wouldn’t squeak so much,” she says as they’re lying naked next to each other one morning.

Through panted breaths, Dean answers, “Hey, I lasted a good...10 minutes that time.”

“You want me to get you a medal for that?”

He rolls over and kisses her chest, right above her left breast. “You came, didn’t you?”

“Eventually.”

He looks at her face for a long time. “I’m sorry, I’m just really attracted to you. Can’t help myself.”

“Well, your bed thanks you for it.”

He sighs and flips back over onto his back. “I should ask for a new frame for my birthday.”

Now it’s Cassie turning over and wrapping an arm around his midsection. “I thought we weren’t celebrating your birthday,” she says seriously.

“Right.” The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one he gets on his birthday every year, comes early. “I’ll oil it some more then.”

She moves her hand lower and pinches a bit of fat between her fingers. “Or, you know, it could be this. Maybe we’re too heavy for your bed.”

“Ugh, not you, too. I thought you liked my, uh, body.”

“I do!” She gives his belly a patronizing pat. “Your holiday weight is cute. And your freshman 15. I shouldn’t’ve brought it up, I don’t want you worrying about it.”

Holiday weight _and_ freshman 15? Jesus, how much weight had he gained lately?

“How’s your friend from the library? Cas?” Cassie asks, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Um. Good. His cousin wants to hang out I guess? She invited me over to their apartment. Hey, you should come with me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Castiel and I haven’t spent any time together. I didn’t realize your friendship with him was, um, that serious?”

Dean snorts a laugh. “You’re acting like I’m asking you to meet my folks.”

“I’ve met your par—”

“You hang out with me and Benny all the time, what’s the difference?”

She takes a second to mull it over. “I don’t know. I guess there is no difference.”

“Good. I’ll let him know.”

She climbs on top of him and kisses him hard. “You up for round two?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, why not.”

 

* * *

 

Dean has no idea why Cas can’t stand Anna. She’s funny and sweet and intense in a quiet sort of way, but she and Cas seem to be playing a constant game with each other involving insults and superiority complexes and they're the only two who know the rules. It’s confusing and ridiculous, so Dean elects to ignore it.

“You feel OK?” Dean asks Cassie quietly as they stand in the kitchen together.

Anna and Cas are in the living room arguing about privacy rights of public persons. Apparently Anna is in a media law class or something.

“Hmm? Of course. Cas is—he's great.”

“Good. I, uh, was worried you might hate him.”

“Well, I'm not sure about Anna,” she says bitterly.

“What? Why?”

Cassie turns an incredulous look on him. “She's flirting with you. How have you not noticed?”

“Are you—you're not jealous, are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh, I am.” She messes with the lapels of his flannel. “You know I want you all to myself.”

He follows easily when she drags him down, kissing her slow with a smile on his face.

Anna clears her throat.

“Uh, hey, Anna,” Dean says awkwardly as he steps away from Cassie.

“Having a good time in here?” she asks.

“We are, yeah,” Cassie responds confidently.

The girls stare each other down.

Dean joins Cas in the living room.

“Hey, is Anna flirting with me?” Dean stupidly asks as he sits next to Cas on the couch.

Cas blinks at him. “Probably. She flirts with everyone.”

“Oh. Good.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“What? No. She’s cool, man. I know you don't get along, but I like her.”

Cas sighs.

Dean laughs and shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

Cassie gets really busy with school over the next week, so Dean hardly sees her at all. 

He does, however, run into Anna in the library.

“Psst.”

He looks up from his book and turns his head left and right. It's not until he turns all the way around that he spots Anna smiling and waving at him. She immediately walks over and sits at the conjoined desk next to his.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.”

“Studying?”

“Usually what I do at the library, yeah.”

They both laugh as she lightly punches his chest.

“Come on, let’s go the beach.”

She walks away before he can protest. Dean frowns at her back, looks around the library and then follows her. When they get outside, Anna breaks into a sprint and giggles as Dean chases her. They don’t stop until they’re right at the water’s edge. Anna turns to Dean and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she catches her breath.

“So, uh,” Dean starts between panted breaths, “What are we doing here?”

“I love the beach,” she answers as she plops down in the sand and takes her shoes off.

Dean sits down next to her but doesn’t put his feet in the tide. “I’m sick of it.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t be if you really saw it.”

“What?”

She looks at him, her head tilted to the side curiously. “You’re desensitized to it. You grew up here, right?”

“Why does everybody assume that about me? Is it some kind of vibe I’m giving off?”

“Yeah, kind of,” she replies through a laugh. “It’s not bad, Dean.”

“Well, I’m getting out of here. So I guess it doesn’t matter.” He looks out at the ocean, but it’s the same as it’s always been.

“I kind of like it here,” Anna argues. “Definitely better than Burbank. I wouldn’t mind staying here forever.”

“Ugh, that’s just because you’ve only been here for five minutes.”

She turns and looks at him, and it’s only then that he realizes he was looking at her first. She smiles brightly at him.

And then, without warning, Anna leans forward and purses her lips and closes her eyes.

Dean falls to the side, covering himself in sand, and then he scrambles to his feet and wipes himself off.

“Um, what are you—why would you—I should go find Cassie,” he says.

“Dean! Wait!”

Dean doesn’t wait. He walks at a brusque pace all the way to the library. It isn’t until he’s standing at the front desk staring down at Cas that he registers that he didn’t actually go to Cassie first.

After about a minute, Cas looks up from his computer screen and asks, “May I help you?”

“Anna tried to kiss me.”

“Tried to? She failed?”

“What? No. I mean, yes! I didn’t kiss her back. Hell, I didn’t kiss her _at all._ Did you know about this?”

“Why would I know about this?”

Dean throws his hands up in the air. “I don’t know! I expected a little bit more shock I guess.”

“You’re very attractive, Dean, it’s not surprising that Anna would try to kiss you.”

Dean blinks at him.

Cas stares at him for a second and then turns his attention back to the computer screen. “You should tell Cassie though. She should know how loyal you are.”

“She won’t want me to see Anna again.”

“I’m counting on it,” Cas replies too quickly.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later.”

Dean doesn’t really know why he’s angry at Cas, so he tries to calm down before seeing Cassie. It’s a non-issue though, because he ends up not seeing her until hours later when he’s forgotten about Cas anyway. He’s lying on the roof of the econ building smoking a bowl when Cassie joins him.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says as she lies down next to him. “You’re so predictable. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“How do you know something’s bothering me?”

“You only come up here if something’s bothering you. Your mom’s worried about you, by the way. She said you hadn’t been home.”

“You went to my house first? Guess I’m not so predictable after all.”

She rolls to her side and punches his arm. “Some people have phones, you know. I called your house. And stop avoiding the subject. What happened?”

Dean sighs loudly. “I was in the library and, uh, saw Anna there. She made me go to the beach with her and we were just talking and then all of a sudden she, uh, tried to kiss me. I freaked out. I don’t know why the fuck she’d do that.”

“I do,” Cassie says with an edge to her tone. “You went to the beach with her. You were flirting with her.”

“What? It wasn’t like that! C’mon, Cassie—”

“I mean, you’re obviously attracted to her. You wanted to kiss her, right?”

He sits up and looks down at her. “Are you even hearing yourself? I’m with _you,_ I don’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Are you sure though? I don’t know if I want to be with someone who’s constantly tempted.”

Dean actually laughs at that. “I don’t like Anna! I don’t like anybody but you. If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to break up with me.”

Cassie’s eyes widen. She sits up as well and doesn’t say anything.

“Oh my god. You’re breaking up with me,” Dean says.

“I’m not—it’s not—I thought you liked Anna more.”

“I’ve hung out with her two times! You’re being so weird about this, like you expected me to cheat on you with her.”

“Oh, so you _have_ thought about cheating on me with her?”

“What? No!” He groans in frustration.

“OK, wait, you’re right,” Cassie says more calmly. “I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know. I don’t like thinking about you with other people. I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s alright,” Dean soothes as he gathers her in his arms. “You don’t have to...worry about me. I’m here, I’m yours. I don’t ever have to see Anna again. Honestly, I don’t really _want_ to after today. Alright?”

Cassie pulls away from him just enough to nod in agreement. They kiss chastely and then lie back down together.

What a weird fucking day.

 

* * *

 

“So she didn’t break up with you?” Benny asks as he reaches for another slice of pizza. 

“No, but she acted like she was trying to. Or like she expected _me_ to break up with _her._ It was so weird.” Dean also reaches for another slice of pizza, even though he’s eaten almost an entire large pizza by himself and feels completely stuffed.

“But you’re still together? You think?”

“Yeah, dude. I definitely wasn’t trying to break up with her.” Dean focuses his attention back on the B-horror movie they’re watching.

“And you don’t think maybe she was trying to break up with you?”

“What? No. Ugh, maybe.”

“Think about it, Dean. She was trying to use Anna as an out.”

Dean turns an annoyed look on him. “Whose side are you on here?”

Benny raises his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, Dean, I just don’t want you to get hurt. But if you think things are good with Cassie, I’ll trust you.”

“They _are_ good.” Dean reaches for yet another slice of pizza just to have something to do.

“Another piece of pizza? We didn’t smoke, you can’t have the munchies,” Benny teases.

“Goddamn it, not you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Even a month later, things haven't really gone back to normal with Cassie.

Dean is not exactly sure what’s changed, but she’s less sure around him. Fidgety. Spaced out. Way too careful about how she acts and what she says.

Dean wants to confront her about it, but he’s afraid he’s just imagining things. Instead, he goes to Cas.

“She’s acting different. I think she might break up with me,” he says as they stand out on the pier together one afternoon.

“Do you think she’s upset about the incident with Anna?”

“That was a whole month ago. I don’t know what she wants me to do about it.”

It’s a busier day than normal on the pier. There are a lot of kids screaming and couples whispering, so Dean keeps his elbows up on the railing and faces the ocean and pretends like they’re alone. Castiel mirrors his stance, their forearms nearly brushing as they stare out at the water together.

“Do you love Cassie, Dean?”

“That's a little, uh, too personal of a question honestly.”

“I’m just trying to figure out how much this relationship means to you.”

“It means a lot, OK? I don’t know if I’m ready for the ‘L’ word yet, but I’m committed.”

“Hmm. I see.”

Dean glares at him. “What? What do you see? Aren’t you supposed to be giving me some advice or something?”

Castiel clenches his jaw, making his profile even more gorgeous against the waning afternoon light. “Aren’t you tired of everyone telling you what to do, Dean? Controlling your entire life?”

“Who the fuck’s controlling my life?”

“How many people have told you to lose weight recently, or implied that you need to?”

Dean scoffs at him. “Yeah, and you see how good of a job they’re doing _‘controlling’_ me,” he says bitterly as he pats his gut.

Castiel turns his whole body toward him. “Exactly. They can try, but you...are not controllable.”

“Wow, very poetic of you.”

“You are wild and unpredictable. It’s one of the things I really admire about you.”

“Uh, thanks, but you’re a little off the mark there, Cas. I’m actually really fucking predictable.”

Cas squints at him.

Dean straightens his back and puffs his chest out a little as he turns to face Cas. They look at each other.

“What about you, Cas?” Dean asks quietly. “Who’s controlling _your_ life?”

“Oh, that’s a very complicated question.”

“How come it’s always me complaining and you listening? You don’t have a girlfriend you can whine about?”

“A girl, that would be different for me,” he answers in a low tone.

Without thinking, Dean asks, “You a queer, Cas?”

Castiel smiles sheepishly at him and then looks down at his feet. When he looks back up, he nods toward the beach and says, “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

They kick their shoes off at the stairs going down to the beach. Dean, for some reason, trusts Cas’ assurances that the shoes will still be there when they get back. They walk right along the water’s edge and don’t really say anything to each other for a while. The sun goes down, and still they walk. Their arms occasionally brush, their hips occasionally knock into each other. It’s quiet and calm and they pass almost no one as they walk farther and farther along the beach.

“I’ve never been this far,” Dean says as they approach a second pier. It’s completely deserted.

“Neither have I.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

Cas turns in front of Dean so he has to stop walking. “We can go back.”

Dean searches his face in the dark. “OK.”

They don’t move. The tide makes a gentle noise as the waves crash against the shore.

Cas’ fingertips drift down Dean’s forearm until they find his hand. Dean just barely lifts his fingers to press against Cas’. He wants to ask what he’s doing, what’s going on, but the words get stuck in his throat.

He can see Cas lick his lips right before he leans in and presses his mouth to Dean’s.

Dean flinches even as he closes his eyes. His body relaxes as soon as Cas’ lips start moving. He responds in kind, taking a step closer to Cas and placing a tentative hand on his hip as their mouths move together. He pushes his tongue past Cas’ lips and is pleased when Cas returns the favor.

There’s not a single thought in Dean’s head.

When they pull apart a minute or so later, Cas’ eyes scan Dean’s entire face.

“We should go back,” Dean whispers hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Cas agrees.

They don’t say anything as they walk.

Their hands occasionally brush.

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t tell Cassie. It’s not like he cheated on her. Cas is a guy, so it doesn’t really matter. He’s not queer. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself every time he’s with her. He’s so antsy and on edge that he avoids Castiel for two weeks. He devotes all his time to Cassie and making her happy and attending to her every need. She stops acting anxious around him, which is good. It's all good.

And when he finally starts to feel like himself again, he braves visiting the library. He might even confront Cas about what happened, tell him it was a misunderstanding, explain that he doesn’t know what the fuck came over him but it should’ve never happened and can they please never speak of it to anyone ever.

There’s a new person at the front desk. She tells Dean that Cas had a serious family emergency and moved back to Burbank.

He left no contact information, no address, nothing.

 

* * *

 

Dean is 23 years old when he marries Cassie.

It’s a May wedding. Late May, so it doesn’t conflict with...the other anniversary that reminds Dean of his brother’s death.

They get married on the beach at 4 p.m. on a Saturday, Benny as the best man, Cassie in a lacy dress with poofy sleeves, and Dean in a black tux that didn’t fit him until he dropped 20 pounds a few months back.

Dean’s trying to get a promotion at work, so they opt out of going on a honeymoon. Instead of having sex with his wife for five days, he sits in a cubicle staring at a computer screen for nine hours every day. Who knew the _“Internet”_ would be such a big thing that he’d use it at his job?

 

* * *

 

“Babe, should we get a car?” Dean asks over breakfast one morning.

When Cassie doesn’t answer right away, Dean looks up from the newspaper and finds her staring at him.

“What?” he asks defensively.

“Dean, you’ve never driven. Not once in your life.”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time I learn?”

“Why? You love biking to work.” She goes back to cooking eggs.

“Yeah, but what if I want to go somewhere else?”

“Where else would you need to go?”

“I don’t know, babe, I’m just...I don’t know.”

Cassie plates the eggs and walks around the table so she can hug Dean from behind. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and rests her chin on his head.

“You’re feeling antsy again,” she explains.

“Mmm.”

“Alright. When you get off work tonight, I’ll have a surprise for you.”

“Mm, a sexy surprise?”

“Maybe.” She kisses his cheek. “Go to work, baby. And quit worrying so much, OK?”

“OK.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dean bikes the same route to work every day. In order to avoid a particularly steep hill, he takes a detour through a neighborhood and adds an extra mile to his trip. He always sees the same garbage truck picking up trash on Marlon Lane, and he always waves at Meg while she’s walking her giant ugly dog.

Today, though, he feels like breaking his routine. He thinks he’s in good enough shape to make it up the hill. Today, things are going to be different. Unpredictable.

His building is in the heart of town, but he usually avoids the foot traffic through his alternate route. Today, though, he has to park his bike a half mile from work and brave the crowd of people milling in the square. He feels like he’s on display, like people are looking at him, talking about him, and he knows that’s ridiculous but he can’t get out of his own head.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester, decided not to pedal that awful metal garbage this morning?” Mr. Crowley asks as he walks up next to Dean.

“Oh, uh, no. It’s parked nearby.”

“I see. I expect those reports on my desk by noon today, Winchester. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Crowley grips his briefcase a little tighter and picks up his pace so they aren’t walking together anymore. Dean is grateful for it. His boss is a dick.

“Dean?” someone asks.

Dean spins around and searches for the voice, but nobody owns up to it. He makes eye contact with a young man a few inches taller than him before turning back toward his building.

Wait.

He turns back around and sees the back of the man’s head. He’s walking too quickly, and a woman with a small dog is jogging to catch up with him. Dean keeps his eyes glued to the long, shaggy hair.

“Sam?” he asks no one.

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t tell his wife. Instead, he calls Benny and goes to the bar with him after work on Friday. 

“I saw my brother,” Dean blurts out with no preamble. He downs half his beer so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

“You did what now?”

“It was him. I know I haven’t seen him since we were kids, but. It was him, Benny.”

“Dean. Sam is—”

“Dead, I know. But I saw him. I’m not crazy.”

Except Sam looked exactly the way he does in Dean’s dreams. Long hair and bags under his eyes and everything. Dean’s never told anyone how Sam appears in his dreams. It was likely a hallucination he saw the other day, but he refuses to believe that.

“What’d he look like?”

“You believe me?”

Benny laughs and takes a drink. “I’m not saying anything yet. I’m just asking what he looked like.”

“He was tall. Taller than me. And, uh, he looked sad.”

“Sad? Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. He say anything to you?”

Dean shifts in his seat. “I think he said my name. What am I supposed to do, Benny? I want to find him.”

“Whoa, hey, let’s slow down. You could’ve just seen somebody that really looked like him. You haven’t seen him since he was little, how would you even know what he looks like as an adult?”

“I just know,” Dean answers with conviction.

“Alright. Let’s say I believe you. What are you gonna do if you find him?”

“I don’t know, Benny! He’s my brother. I’d probably wring his neck for making me think he was dead.” He swallows and chokes back a sob.

Benny scoots closer to him and drops his hand to his shoulder to soothe him. “We’ll figure it out, OK? We’ll find out what’s going on.”

As he sits at the bar with Benny, Castiel’s words ring in his head. It was unfair the he never learned exactly what happened to Sam.

 

* * *

 

Dean goes back to his regular routine. 

Except, he spends a lot more time at work not working. He researches different cars and tries to find the one in his dreams with no luck. He tries to find his brother, no luck. He even calls his mom and tries to ask her about it, but she changes the subject to holiday plans and pestering him about when he’s going to give her a grandchild. After that conversation, he has to pull out his old picture of him and Sam in order to calm down.

The picture is so faded now that Sam’s face is barely recognizable through the grainy black-and-white. They still look like superheroes, though. Straight out of a comic book.

Just as Dean is about to fold up the photo and put it back in his wallet, he notices something strange in the corner. He’s never seen it before because it’s right where his thumb rests on the photo. In the window to the left of Sam and Dean, there’s a person. He looks to be older, with a beard and a baseball cap, and he’s peering into the window. He has a piece of paper in his hand that he’s holding up to the window as if he’s trying to relay a message to the photographer.

Dean remembers a neighbor when he was little, an older man with a beard and baseball cap, but he moved away after living next door for just a few months. Dean brings the photo up close to his face and squints, but he can’t make out what’s written on the piece of paper.

He folds the picture up and puts it back in his wallet.

 

* * *

 

One afternoon during a particularly slow day at work, Dean decides to leave early. A nervous intern in a cubicle nearby, Kevin, asks him where he’s going and he tells him none of his business. The kid splutters for some sort of comeback, but Dean’s already rounding the corner. 

He runs into Mr. Crowley on the elevator. Of course.

“Late lunch, Winchester?” Crowley asks without looking over at him.

“Nope, heading home.”

Crowley looks at his watch. “At 3:42 on a Thursday?”

“Not much going on, sir. I figure, if I’m done with my work for the day, then I can go home.”

“Hmm. May need to adjust company policy on that,” Crowley mumbles mostly to himself.

“You gonna fire me?”

“Not today, Winchester, but keep up that attitude and I’ll do something about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crowley exits on the third floor, leaving Dean alone until he gets to the first floor. When the elevator doors open, it seems eerily quiet in the lobby. As soon as Dean steps off, though, the chatter picks up and everyone bustles around him. The woman at the front desk is staring at him, but the second he makes eye contact with her she buries her nose in her computer. The same thing happens with a pair of people having a conversation by the door. He doesn’t even know these people, and they all appear to notice and care that he’s leaving work early.

When he gets to the square, he takes a seat at an empty picnic table and just listens. There’s a person to his left speaking Spanish to a child, a person to his right chastising a dog, and a group of people behind him all talking and laughing over each other. He’s not sure why he’s here.

But he keeps hearing the voice over and over in his head: _Dean?_

Maybe, just maybe, if he sits here long enough he’ll hear it again.

He lasts five minutes before he feels like people are looking at him. He hurries off to where he parked his bike and hops on it to head home.

Except, instead of heading home, he ends up at a car dealership. When he steps inside and stalks up to the nearest sales rep, the guy looks at him like he has no clue why he’s there.

“I’m here to look at cars,” Dean says intelligently. He looks at the kid’s name tag and laughs. _Alfie._

“Um, yes—yes, sir. What are you, uh, interested in seeing today?” Alfie stutters.

Sure, Dean’s only 25, but this kid makes him feel ancient. “First day on the job, kid?”

Alfie laughs and ducks his head. “Sort of. If you’ll follow me, I can show you some of our newer models.”

“You got anything but Volvos?”

“No, sir. We’re a Volvo dealership.”

“Figures.”

Dean listens halfheartedly as Alfie shows him the different models and goes over all the features he’d be paying an arm and a leg for. He lets Dean get inside a couple of them, but as soon as Dean is behind the wheel his heart beats a little bit harder in his chest.

“Would you like to go for a test drive, sir?” Alfie asks as Dean is stroking the wheel of a station wagon.

“What?”

Alfie leans a little closer into the window. “A test drive. We can take it out on Merrill so you can see how it runs.”

Dean’s knuckles go white as he squeezes the wheel. “Uh, no thanks. Not today. Maybe—I can come back another time.” He stumbles out of the car, pushing Alfie out of the way. “You’ve been a great help, Alfie. If I come back and buy a car, I’ll be sure to buy it from you.”

As Dean races out of the building, Alfie calls, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean doesn’t respond.

His chest is tight and he can’t catch his breath, but he manages to bike home without crashing or passing out. When he gets home, he quickly closes and locks the door behind him and leans up against it as he tries to regain his composure. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he hears laughter drift in from the living room.

He investigates the noise and finds his mom and Cassie drinking wine on the couch.

“Hey, Mom,” he greets in surprise.

“You’re home early, babe,” Cassie says.

“You are, too,” Dean replies as he walks over and kisses her on the cheek. He then does the same to his mom before having a seat in the armchair.

“Slow news day. We got everything over to copy by 4.”

“What if more news happens later in the day? Tonight?” Dean retorts.

Cassie rolls her eyes. “We’ve been over this. There’s a night shift. I’m only called in if there’s breaking news in my department.”

“Hmm.”

“Dean, honey, you two haven’t been over in ages. You know you’re welcome anytime,” his mom says a little sadly.

“Oh yeah? Does Dad know that?”

“Oh, you know how your father is. He’ll be unhappy whether we’re expecting you or not.”

Dean scoffs at that.

“Dean, I was just telling your mom about Pamela having a baby. Can you believe she ever settled down enough to start a family?”

“Great, I know where this conversation is going,” Dean complains.

Both women laugh.

“You would be a great father, Dean,” his mom says seriously. “I know you’re still so young, but there’s really nothing holding you back. I wish you’d at least think about it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, OK, Mom.” Dean stands and rubs a hand down his belly. “I’m gonna get dinner started. Chicken spaghetti sound good?”

“Cassie said you two were avoiding carbs.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m not avoiding anything.” He pats his belly. “I’m eating pie every day and I feel great. Anything else you need to pester me about while you're here?”

His mom tilts her head at him disapprovingly. “Dean.”

“Mom,” he mimics.

She rolls her eyes at him, so he heads toward the kitchen. He can hear Cassie immediately placate his mom by lying about him watching what he’s eating lately. He doesn’t get why his mom is still hung up on this. He’s been on the fat side of chubby for literally years now; nothing’s changing anytime soon.

An hour later, they all sit down to dinner and Mary doesn’t complain so much about the carbs anymore. She praises Dean for his cooking abilities and wonders where he got them from. When he reminds her that she’s the one who taught him how to cook, she waves him off and says he’s way better than she ever could be. He beams under the praise but tries not to show it too much.

“Oh, hey, Mom, do you remember us having a neighbor when I was a kid, an older guy with a beard?” Dean asks apropos of nothing.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why, honey?”

“I just, uh, was looking at an old picture of me and Sam and saw a guy in the background. Couldn’t remember who he was.”

“You were looking at a picture of you and Sam?”

They all stop eating.

“Yeah?” Dean responds. “I keep one in my wallet.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

“Mom, what happened to Sam?” he blurts out against his will.

Mary’s jaw moves as if she’s trying to say words but they won’t come out. Eventually she manages, “You know he’s gone, Dean.”

“Yeah, _gone._ What the hell does that mean? Is he alive, Mom?”

“Alive? How could he possibly be alive?”

“Dean, I think you should—”

“Butt out, Cassie. I want to know what the fuck happened to my brother.”

“Where is this coming from, Dean? You’ve never wanted to talk about Sam.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do now. I want to know what happened to him. I deserve to know.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. He’s gone and I don’t know. He—he didn’t—he couldn’t…”

Mary breaks down crying. Cassie immediately gets up to comfort her. She gives Dean a disappointed look, so he backs his chair up and storms out of the room.

He doesn’t say goodbye to his mom before she leaves, and he elects to sleep on the couch that night.

He dreams not of station wagons, but of his classic car. Alfie’s there in his dream, but he’s an angel. A real angel. Mr. Crowley is torturing him for information, and Castiel asks Sam and Dean for their help in rescuing him.

It’s the first time Castiel has ever shown up in his dreams. Apparently he’s an angel, too.

 

* * *

 

Dean likes taking long showers.  

In the shower, he can touch himself while thinking about men and nobody can call him disgusting for it. Well, really only one man. He thinks about Castiel—the Castiel in his dreams, not the 21-year-old Castiel he knew in real life—but he never feels totally satisfied with his release. He wants to see Castiel again, touch him, taste his lips, but he has no idea where he is or how to contact him. He thinks about him almost daily.

One time, Dean considered buying pornographic gay magazines to take his mind off of Castiel. To see if he could get it up for any other man. To find out if he really is a queer.

But Cassie always seems to know what Dean is up to, and he couldn’t risk her finding the magazines. Only one time did she ever mention homosexuality, and it was to say that she had stopped speaking to her uncle because he had sex with a man.

Cassie could never know.

So Dean takes long showers.

 

* * *

 

Dean breaks his routine again and continues to break his routine near daily. He skips work and hangs out at the park, goes out to lunch instead of sitting at his desk, visits old junkyards in search of his car and finds nothing.

The more he breaks his routine, the more strangely the people around him act. Or perhaps it’s how people have always acted, but Dean’s been too busy with his routine to notice.

One afternoon, he accidentally steps into traffic and very nearly gets hit by a bus. But the bus stops immediately, as if the driver knew he was about to step into the street. Dean looks at the bus. The driver is looking at him. Dean looks around. Nobody is paying him any mind.

When everything gets to be too much, he meets up with Benny at the bar.

“Nothing feels real,” he says, four beers in. “I know that doesn’t make sense, but. I don’t know. I have really vivid dreams, and they feel more real than real life.”

“How ‘bout me? Do I feel real?”

“Yeah, you feel real.”

“Good, ‘cause I am. When things start getting fuzzy, brother, you can depend on me. You trust me, right?”

“Benny, what the hell you talking about? You’re acting crazy.”

Benny drops his head and laughs. “I, uh, I’ve got something for you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“That day, the day you told me about...seeing your brother. You’re not crazy, Dean.”

“What?” he barely whispers.

“I think that really was Sam.” Benny pulls a pen out of his pocket and writes an address on a napkin. “Go to this address tomorrow morning. If it really is Sam, he’ll be there.”

“You’re joking, right? This is a joke.” Dean holds up the napkin.

“Honestly, it might be. But it’s worth a shot, ain’t it?”

Dean stares at the napkin.

“You know I’m not waiting ‘til the morning, right?”

“Kinda hoping you’d say that.”

Benny waves down the bartender to close their tab.

The address, like most things in town, is walking distance. The two of them stumble up to it, but Benny hangs back while Dean goes to the door.

He knocks and waits. 

And waits.

After about a minute and a half, a young black woman with a steady gaze answers the door.

“Can I help you?” she asks blandly.

“Um. Does—do you know Sam? Sam Winchester.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks him up and down. “Is he the homeless guy I kicked out last week?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the landlord,” she explains as she shifts her weight to her back leg. “I decided to move back into this house after neighbors complained about a squatter. I got into an argument with him, he said his name was Sam.”

“Do you—you know where he went?”

She shakes her head slowly.

“Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess.”

She gives him a nod before shutting the door in his face.

Benny gives him an apologetic look and keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders as they walk back to the bar.

“Do you think it was him?” Dean asks.

“I honestly don’t know. I got that address from some people that know some people, but they ain’t always reliable. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s OK. Now that I know he’s out there, I have to find him. I have to…”

“Whoa, hey, we don’t know for sure he’s out there, remember? We don’t know.”

“Yeah, I do. I know.”

 

* * *

 

“I really think we should get a car,” Dean says over breakfast the next morning.

“And I think we should have a baby, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Cassie responds without missing a beat.

Dean clenches his jaw and doesn’t say anything.

Cassie takes a seat across from him at the table. “You’ve been stuck on this car thing for a while, Dean. What would you possibly need a car for?”

“I—it would be nice to be able to...go. Go somewhere.”

“To California? As far away from here as possible?”

Dean stares down at the table. “I saw Sam.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside one day, and there was a crowd, and I—I saw my fucking brother. I saw him, and I’m pretty sure he was real, but…”

“And what exactly does a car have to do with this?”

Dean looks up at her sharply. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

She laughs and leans back in her seat. “I absolutely think you’re crazy, but I’m also your wife so I’m willing to play along.”

 _Play along?_ “This isn’t a game, Cassie. I think my brother’s alive, and I want to find him.”

“And a car will help you find him?”

“I don’t know! Maybe. Or maybe I just…”

“You just what, Dean?”

“Need something to make me better! I’m just—I’m so sick of this. Of all of this.” He stands and gestures around the room. “What the hell are we doing, Cassie? Nothing. We’re doing nothing.”

Cassie hurries over to him and wraps him in a hug. “I know, baby, I get it.”

He relaxes a little bit.

“Why do you think I keep talking about a baby?”

He pushes away from her immediately. “I’m not having a fucking baby! I don’t want a baby! I have to—I need to get out of here. I’m going to work.”

He stalks out of the house and ignores Cassie as she yells after him. She gives up once he’s on his bike. He pedals as fast as possible. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to get away.

It isn’t until he’s furiously knocking on a door that he stops and thinks about where he is.

The black woman from before doesn’t answer. Instead, it’s a little girl in a white dress.

“Can I help you?” she asks in a singsong voice.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. Is your, uh—the lady who lives here, is she here?”

The girl perks up. “Billie? She’s not here right now. I can tell her you stopped by.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

With a bright smile, she responds, “Lilith.”

“Alright, Lilith.” He tilts his chin down and raises his eyebrows. “You mind telling me what’s going on here? Because you’re now the third person I’ve heard of living in this house.”

Her smile is unsettling. “You shouldn’t come back here again, Dean.”

She slams the door in his face.

 

* * *

 

It takes Dean three days to realize that Cassie is diligently keeping track of his every step. People at work check up on him, the guy in the cubicle next to him keeps side-eyeing him before typing something on his computer, when Cassie works late Benny comes over and keeps him company, and his mom calls their home phone nearly every day.

So he goes back to his routine.

He doesn’t go back to the house.

He puts on a happy face and pretends that everything is fine.

One night, he and Cassie even have sex. For the first time in weeks, Cassie comes to bed naked and climbs on top of him and tells him to relax while she rides him. It’s the best he’s felt in a while, the calmest he’s been.

But then he falls asleep and he’s driving and Sam is next to him.

“We don’t even know if Lilith’s the one who holds your deal,” Sam says like they’re in the middle of a serious conversation.

“Lilith? She lives in that house.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing. So, uh, how do we find out who holds my deal?”

"Dean, watch out!"

He hears the blaring of a truck's horn and bright lights shining in his face before impact. 

The dream fades, a new one begins. Dean is sitting on a dock looking out on a lake as he fishes. He knows it’s a lake even though it looks bigger, more vast than the ocean he’s lived next to all his life.

“How are you, Dean?” Cas asks, his hands in the pockets of his ridiculous coat and his eyes trained straight ahead.

“Where’d you get that stupid coat, man? I never saw you wear it, and now I never see you without it.”

“I’m not in charge of your subconscious. I have no idea why you’d put me in this.”

Dean doesn’t have a response to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

“So, how are you?” Cas tries again.

“I’m just great,” he answers facetiously.

“I heard you saw Sam.”

“How the hell did you—subconscious. Right.”

“You should try to find him.”

“Yeah. Like he’s real.”

Castiel looks at him. “He could be. You believe he is. Isn’t it worth it to find out if you’re right?”

“How?”

“Drive.”

Dean blinks at him.

“You drive, Dean. Stop letting everyone control your life.”

“Cassie’s watching me like a—”

“She can’t watch you every second of every day. Nobody can watch you every second of every day. That’s how you feel, I know, but it’s not possible. You can escape.”

“But h—”

“You drive, Dean. Drive.”

He wakes up sweaty and gasping. Cassie stirs beside him but doesn’t wake up. The clock blinks 2:47 a.m. at him. He slides out of bed and rummages around for his boxers. He doesn’t stop to think as he throws on some clothes in the dark, grabs his wallet and heads out the door.

As he bikes, he keeps his eyes straight ahead. It feels like somebody is watching him, like somebody knows he’s breaking the rules and they’re just waiting for the opportunity to stop him.

But nobody stops him. He makes it all the way to the abandoned junkyard that used to be Singer Auto. Dean picks out a rusty piece of junk that looks to have the best tires, and he hotwires it.

He learned in a dream how to hotwire a car. He’s shocked to find out that his subconscious was right about how to do it.

It isn’t until he slams the door shut and grips the steering wheel that he begins to panic.

“You can do this, Dean. Just...do it,” he tells himself.

He doesn’t do it.

Thirty seconds later, the sirens sound. A police officer shouts at him.

Dean hits the gas.

He drives right past the police and doesn’t stop when the blue lights follow him. Eventually they lose interest, the lights go off, they turn around. It's not like the car chases on TV at all. 

There’s a roadblock near the bridge that heads out of town. They’re doing construction in the middle of the goddamn night. A man in an orange hard hat explains to Dean that the only time they can block the bridge is in the middle of the goddamn night, so he’s just going to have to find another way around.

Dean backs up and drives through town again, speeding through the streets and doing donuts in parking lots until the sun rises. Only then does he park the car in a ditch and jog home. He'll have to retrieve his bike in the morning, but that's fine. He doesn't suspect anyone will steal it from the junkyard. 

Cassie is still asleep in bed. He removes all of his clothes and crawls in next to her, and she doesn’t even stir.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Dean goes through old phone books to try to find out where Castiel is. He tried using the Internet once, but he quickly realized it’s useless for anything other than email. So over lunch at work, he hunches at his desk and sorts through the pages hoping to find something, anything that would give him answers. 

Once he’s given up on finding Castiel, he looks up the address of the mysterious house. The name attached to it is Tessa Williams. He sighs in frustration before determining that maybe “Billie” is a nickname for “Williams.” He closes the phone book and tucks it between two cabinets under his desk.

“Dean.”

Dean spins around quickly in his chair and looks up at Mr. Crowley with a fake smile. His attention, however, wanders to the beautiful brunette standing next to Crowley.

“This is Lisa Braeden. She’ll be working with you on several projects, so don’t be shy,” Crowley says.

Lisa holds her hand out, so Dean jumps to his feet and returns her handshake. They hold on just a second too long.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” she says sweetly. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, uh, same here.”

Thankfully, Crowley doesn’t try to make small talk. He and Lisa keep walking, so Dean’s left to sit in his cubicle and chastise himself for being an idiot.

He shouldn’t be flusteredby a pretty woman. He’s happily married.

Mostly happily. Sometimes he wonders if Cassie actually loves him, or if she loves stability and the idea of having a family. But other than that, they're happy. 

He turns to his computer and snaps out of it. Even if Cassie doesn’t love him, that’s not a good enough reason to consider cheating on her.

An annoying voice in the back of his head says, _You’ve already cheated on her._

It doesn’t count. He knows it doesn’t count. He still thinks about that kiss with Castiel from time to time, and how unsatisfying it was. It he lived in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have stopped at just a kiss. In a perfect world, his perversion wouldn’t be a perversion and he would’ve broken up with Cassie and had sex with Cas right there on the beach. 

He tells himself he loves Cassie, and today he mostly believes it.

 

* * *

 

On a lazy Saturday, Dean decides to be productive and sorts through all of the files in his home office. Cassie is a stickler about not throwing important things away, so they have years' worth of documents ranging in importance from tax returns to college essays. Dean thinks there must be a better way to organize everything, so he composes piles of papers based on whether they can be trashed without Cassie noticing.

This is his life.

He's sorting through some old college work when his hand slips and he drops about 10 sheets of paper. As he's picking them up, something catches his eye.

 _The Screwtape Letters_ by C.S. Lewis. 

How the hell does he still have his freshman-level English class book list?

He's about to put it in the "definitely trash" pile when he notices it: his name. Or, rather, his lack of name. His name is not on the top of the page.

He remembers that day vividly. The day he met Cas, the day he met Cassie. Cas had called him Dean Winchester. Not just Dean, but Dean Winchester.

Dean haphazardly grabs all of the documents and shoves them back into their filing cabinet.  

He races to his room and grabs a jacket and shoes, and as he's spinning around to head toward the door he jumps at the sight of Cassie standing in the doorway.

"Going somewhere?" she asks sweetly.

He puts a hand on his hip and shakes his head awkwardly as his pulse evens back out. "No, uh. I was just, um. Thinking about going to the store, actually."

"Oh! Good. We need more cocoa. I'll go with you."

 

* * *

 

Dean takes a sick day. He tells Cassie not to worry, he doesn’t think it’s too serious, but he should probably stay in bed and nap for most of the day.

He lies down in bed and waits.

And waits.

When the time feels right, he sneaks out the back door.

_Don’t go back to the house, don’t go back to the house._

It takes him nearly an hour to find the ditch where he left the car.

Driving is strange. It was exhilarating and terrifying the first time, but now, in the light of day, it seems ridiculous. He speeds because he feels like he has to, but the radio is playing some light jazz and there’s no other sound in the world around him. Hardly any other cars pass him, and he easily makes it over the bridge and passes a big green sign announcing that he’s leaving Rutnam Shore.

He’s leaving Rutnam Shore.

He hasn’t left Rutnam Shore since—well, since the accident. He doesn’t even know how far outside the city limits they were when they…

He grips the steering wheel a little tighter and notices how his wedding ring glints in the sun. On impulse, he takes it off and throws it toward the passenger seat.

Half an hour into his trip, he realizes he hasn’t passed another car since he went over the bridge. The landscape around him is completely flat and dead, unlike the vast countryside and greenery he pictures in his dreams. Something feels off, but he doesn’t think he’s dreaming.

An hour into his trip, the road ahead appears to fold in on itself. He leans forward and looks up to find that the sky seems to be curving up, like he’s on the edge of the world. He blinks and rubs his eyes and then suddenly—

He crashes into a wall. The front end of the car collapses as he jolts forward. His airbag pops out, which is shocking to learn that it even works. He fumbles with the handle but eventually manages to get out of the car.

And sure enough, when he reaches his hand out, he touches a wall. It’s painted like the road and the sky, but it’s a wall. A concrete wall.

"No," Dean breathes. "No, no, no." He presses his hands around frantically and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

He looks over at his smashed car and then back at the wall. Maybe if he rams his car into it a few more times it'll break. Just as he's opening the driver's side door, a booming voice from up above speaks.

“Dean,” it says.

He spins around and looks up at the sky. Amazingly, he feels calm. Completely calm. He had reached a literal dead end, so any sort of answers, no matter how bizarre, are appreciated. 

“If you’re God, please feel free to go ahead and kill me,” Dean replies.

The voice laughs, an annoying, piercing laugh. “I am the creator of a television show that brings hope and joy to millions.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the star, Dean." When Dean doesn't say anything, the voice continues, "Since the day you were born, people all over the world have been watching your life. You’re an inspiration! The most famous man in the entire world.”

Dean turns toward the wall, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He's not sure he's processing anything that's being said. He's still not sure if he's awake. He feels eyes on him, but nobody is around. 

“You don’t have to leave, Dean. You could stay here, where it’s safe. I know you better than anyone. Stay, Dean.”

“No." He takes a deep breath. _Keep it together, Dean._ "No. You don’t know me at all.”

“I do, Dean. There have been cameras all around you since before you were born.”

He says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Never in my head.”

There’s a long pause.

Dean waits for several seconds. He closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, feeling the fresh air in his lungs. Fresh air? He opens his eyes and touches the wall. “Was any of this real?”

“You were real,” the voice answers.

Dean spins around and slams the car door shut. He turns to the left and lets his eyes wander over the wall. After a few seconds, he spots a hidden staircase leading up to a door.

Without another word, he walks up the staircase and opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER-Y WARNINGS:
> 
> 1\. This fic has a lot less deancas than my other fics. My beta described it as "Dean's tummy is in the fic more than Cas."  
> 2\. Dean has a lot of internalized homophobia, which is what he uses to justify kind of (kissing, no sex) cheating on Cassie. I personally will immediately exit out of a fic when a main character cheats, but I encourage you all to read through to the end even if some plot points are incredibly frustrating.  
> 3\. "Why didn't you tag major character death!!!" Nobody's actually dead, I swear.  
> 4\. Dubious consent and dubious ethics are tagged as one in the same, meaning that the consent issues are not necessarily sex-related. Also, the consent issues are definitely not realistic. If you want more info than that before reading this fic, [message me.](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/ask)


	2. Chapter 2

INTERVIEWER: Thank you for your time today, Metatron, I know how much you value your privacy. 

METATRON: It’s no problem. I do have a television show to run, though, so brevity would be appreciated.

INTERVIEWER: Of course. Could you tell us a little bit about the world you’ve created?

METATRON: Well, as most people know, Rutnam Shore is the biggest studio ever built. It’s visible from space. And although it’s located in Burbank, Dean believes he’s on the East Coast. That was a decision simply based on wanting his world to be totally different than what’s right outside the studio. Perhaps the most ambitious thing I did, though, is build a world that doesn’t quite match our own. While it’s now 2015 here in the real world, Dean believes it’s 1997. With technology moving at such a breakneck speed, we knew we had to slow things down. We couldn’t have Dean googling himself and discovering the show. We had to be very particular about what technology we introduced, what media we showed him. We actually considered only having typewriters while Dean was in college, but Rutnam Community College is an actual, accredited school, so that wouldn’t have been fair for the very real students there. It was hard enough making them use old junker computers made in the '90s. 

INTERVIEWER: That’s another question—how did you pull off hiring students and employees for all the moving parts? Rutnam Shore is a fully functioning city, so you can’t just hire actors.

METATRON: No, we can’t. Students send in applications just like a regular school, but we have a very extensive screening process. The thing is, we can’t control every single one of Dean’s movements. We can place people in strategic positions and have them show up at whatever restaurant Dean happens to be eating, but ultimately he chooses where he goes and who he interacts with. Every single person living in Rutnam is prepared to interact with Dean anytime. And of course, since Rutnam is essentially a fully functioning city, we hired real employees for real jobs. Everyone doubles as an actor and whatever other job they’re qualified for.

INTERVIEWER: You brought up an interesting point about who Dean interacts with. Was it your intention for—

METATRON: You’re going to ask about Castiel, aren’t you?

INTERVIEWER: Can you blame me?

METATRON: In hindsight, we never should’ve let Castiel sit at that front desk. Of course, we had no idea that Dean was…

INTERVIEWER: Gay?

METATRON: I’m not sure we can label him. He grew up thinking being gay is wrong, which is not something that we purposely planted in his head. Well, we might’ve planted it a _little_ bit. It’s been my mission to have an onscreen birth, so it was pretty crucial that Dean marry a woman. But when Castiel came along, we thought everything was ruined. Anna was brought in as an emergency situation to try to pull Dean’s attention away from Castiel. See, Cassie never really planned on being with Dean long term. She was just supposed to be his college girlfriend, and then her contract would’ve been up after that. But when Dean didn’t break up with her over Anna _or_ over Castiel, we had to change our plans. It seemed Dean really was hopelessly in love with Cassie.

INTERVIEWER: How often do you think you’ve changed your plans based on Dean’s actions?

METATRON: I hate this question. It reminds me that no matter how many controlled variables I have, the most important variable is entirely out of my control. We of course figured certain things out. For instance, Dean always did the opposite of what his father told him to do. So when we wanted Dean to go to community college, we had his father say that it wasn't like getting a real degree.

For me personally, the most frustrating thing Dean ever did was get fat. We were very fortunate that he turned out to be extremely good-looking, but then he went and gained 40 pounds in college so we couldn’t market him the way we wanted to. Years before he reached adulthood, we planned on putting him in form-fitting suits that would look like he just walked off the cover of GQ. We had to change our plans when he put on weight and insisted on wearing nothing but flannel and Henleys. Fortunately, our audience embraces him no matter what, so there haven't been any negative repercussions for his fluctuating weight. 

INTERVIEWER: It helps that some extra weight doesn’t detract from his looks.

METATRON: Yes. That, too.

INTERVIEWER: Can you tell us a little bit about Sam?

METATRON: Ah, yes. Dean of course was an orphan that we adopted from birth, and so was Sam. He was actually another plan we had to change. When we found out that Dean’s biological mother was pregnant with another boy, we decided to adopt him, too. My hubris is really to blame for this mistake. It became apparent very quickly that having two moving parts would be nearly impossible to control. One of them was bound to figure things out and would of course tell the other. Sam actually did find out—their neighbor, Bobby, he explained everything to Sam while we were preoccupied with Dean. He had actually been trying to tell Sam and Dean for a long time, but we were so busy keeping an eye on both boys that it took us a long time to notice. Luckily, Sam was only 4 when the neighbor told him, so he didn’t really grasp what was said. Still, we knew we had to get rid of Sam.

We also knew we had to fabricate a way to keep Dean in Rutnam. The timing was perfect—we kill off Sam and make Dean terrified of driving. It sounds easy in theory, but it was a difficult transition to get Sam off the show. He was still so young, so it was difficult to explain to him what was going on. Eventually, we made up some bullshit and put him with a lovely family in L.A.

INTERVIEWER: He came back, though.

METATRON: Yes. I honestly would’ve been happier if Castiel had come back. Sam somehow found his way back into the studio and was able to reach Dean. After that incident, we considered introducing Sam back into the show. He was being very agreeable and living in that stupid house, but almost the moment Benny gave Dean the address we got an anonymous tip warning us that Sam would tell Dean everything. Apparently Sam’s been trying to “rescue” his brother for years now.

Fortunately, we were able to send a security guard to the house in time to forcibly remove Sam. Billie is good at her job, so when there was a knock on the door she had...contained Sam and acted her ass off to get Dean to go away. By the time the door shut, another guard had already taken Sam off the premises.

INTERVIEWER: And what about the little girl? Lilith?

METATRON: She actually lives in the house. Again, Rutnam Shore is a real place that you can live and work as long as you pass our screening process. We try not to have little kids interact with Dean because kids are so unpredictable, but Lilith’s babysitter panicked when Dean showed up so we talked Lilith through it and she did great. Every single resident of Rutnam Shore has a nearly microscopic earpiece so we can talk to them at any point and feed them lines if need be.

INTERVIEWER: Have you ever had anybody remove the earpiece?

METATRON: Oh, come on, you know the answer to this question.

INTERVIEWER: Castiel.

METATRON: Of course it was Castiel! I don’t know how he ever fooled us through the screening process. Almost the second he arrived in Rutnam, he was different. He didn’t listen to any of our directions, was never where he was supposed to be, never said anything he was supposed to say. I can’t believe we let it go on as long as we did, but again, that was my hubris. Castiel boosted our ratings higher than any other character—person ever has. Hell, people liked him so much we changed his class schedule so he'd run into Dean more often. The episode where he and Dean kissed is still our highest rated episode. But we couldn’t keep that up. I mean, that was back in 2008. It was still scandalous to have even just one gay character on TV. We couldn't air that. 

INTERVIEWER: Now that the world is a bit more, um, accepting of the LGBT community, have you considered introducing a male love interest?

METATRON: No. First of all, this is Dean Winchester we're talking about. He's beloved by _the entire world,_  including people who think being gay is bad.We can't alienate a huge part of our audience that's loved this person for the past 25 years. We've been lucky that Dean is such a lovable person that all kinds of people from all over the world can relate to him and feel connected to him. We're not going to sacrifice that. 

And again, we want the first onscreen conception. We don’t think it’s going to happen with Cassie, though, so we’re introducing a new character soon. Cassie is going to leave Dean, and hopefully he will move on to Lisa.

INTERVIEWER: Now, how does Cassie feel about this? Is she in love with Dean, or just pretending?

METATRON: That’s always been an interesting question, hasn’t it? We got lucky with Cassie. She’s an incredible actress and has fooled even me. I think at one point she was in love with him, but I’m not sure if she is anymore. She didn’t protest the idea of leaving him. I think Cassie is so dedicated to her craft that she doesn’t allow herself to be in love with Dean. Because if she was really in love with him, don’t you think she might spill the beans?

INTERVIEWER: Well, I’m assuming there are very serious consequences if she does that. So no, I’m not sure she would even if she’s in love with him.

METATRON: Oh, you’re a smart one! You’re absolutely right. For actors like Cassie and Benny, this is their life and livelihood. If they get it right, they’ll be rewarded for the rest of their lives. Get it wrong, and...well, I can’t get into that on tape.

INTERVIEWER: OK, OK, we can move on. So. What happens next? Dean is going through something right now and it looks like he might actually try to leave Rutnam. What do you do then?

METATRON: We wait and see what he does. I'm sure we'll figure something out.

INTERVIEWER: Alright, I'll trust you. Now, for the billion-dollar question. How will it end?

METATRON: I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate exposition I wanna punch myself in the face have you ever seen me write paragraphs this long I don't think so


	3. Chapter 3

When the wind hits Dean’s face, he coughs and closes his dry eyes. It hurts, but he manages to open his eyes and look up at the sky. 

It’s different. So much brighter, bluer, bigger. He closes his eyes again and breathes in. It smells different, tastes different. Now that he’s outside, it’s obvious. It’s obvious he’s been living inside a bubble his entire life.

 _Real,_ he thinks as he steps in the grass.

His heart is racing, but he doesn't think it's panic. He hopes it's not panic. This is good, it's good, he has to remember that it's good. He's out, and it's good. For the first time in his life, he can get answers.  _Breathe._

There’s a loud noise a little ways off, so he looks around and tries to find the source. In the distance, he sees a group of at least 100 people sprinting toward him. They’re all screaming—or no, they’re cheering. They’re cheering for _him._

_“You did it! You made it out!”_

_“Welcome to the real world, Dean!”_

_“We’ve been waiting for you!”_

His first instinct is to run, but he’s actually curious to see what these people can tell him. 

When they reach him, they stop right in front of him and stare at him as they catch their breath. Several of them are wearing t-shirts with his face on them, and most of the people have red buttons on their clothes that read, "HOW WILL IT END?" in white lettering. A young blonde woman is the first to step forward.

“Dean Winchester. My name is Becky Rosen, and I’ve been watching you since I was 5 years old. It is an enormous honor to meet you.”

She sticks her hand out, so Dean shakes it.

“Um,” he says. “Where am I?”

“Burbank,” a dozen voices answer.

Dean clenches his fists. “Are you telling me I’ve been in _California_ my entire life?”

A few people nod nervously.

“How long have you idiots been standing out here waiting for me?”

“There are trailer parks and apartment complexes all around the studio,” Becky explains with a bright smile. “It costs a _shit_ ton of money to live around the studio, but it’s worth it for this moment right now.” She pulls a rectangular device out of her pocket and taps away at it.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asks.

A few people laugh.

“Oh my god, you poor thing,” Becky laments. “You don’t know what an iPhone is.”

“A what phone? That thing’s a _phone?”_

She turns the small screen toward him and shows him a video of himself drinking cocoa and reading the paper. The caption reads, “Dean Winchester drinks Mococoa Hot Cocoa every day. You can, too.”

“I’m gonna barf,” he says seriously as he watches the commercial.

“Um, Dean,” an older man in the crowd says as he points behind Dean.

Dean turns to see a door of the giant studio opening.

“You should get out of here,” someone else says.

“Yeah, we’ll hold him off and let you get away!”

Dean ignores them. He stalks right up to the guy.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester, my name is Gordon,” the guy says blandly. “I have some paperwork for you now that you’re—”

Dean whacks the stack of papers out of his hands. They fly everywhere and then flutter to the ground. Gordon doesn’t react other than a slow blink.

“I don’t know any lawyers, but I’m gonna get a fucking lawyer and sue every goddamn person inside that dome. And it turns out the whole world loves me, so I guess I have a pretty good chance of winning. Go fuck yourself, Gordon.”

Gordon licks his lips. “We tried really hard to clean up your dirty mouth.”

“What?”

“Not good for television. Too hard to censor. We should’ve done a better job when you were a kid, maybe not even introduce you to the words in the first place.”

Dean blinks.

“Anyway, thanks for putting all of us out of a job. I look forward to your lawsuit.”

Gordon turns and heads back toward the door without picking up the papers.

Everyone is standing nearby, staring at Dean, waiting for something to happen.

The problem is that he's waiting, too. Waiting for some kind of direction, for an explanation, for anything at all to help him navigate this new fucking world he just discovered. Everything's been a lie. Everything he's ever known. He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes in deep and tries to think of anything real that he knows. Anything that could help him, anybody he knows that would tell him the truth and help him figure out what the hell he's supposed to be doing.

He pops his head up real fast. 

“Anybody know where I can find Castiel Novak?”

Several people gasp. One girl screams.

“He’s on Twitter,” Becky Rosen explains as she steps forward and shoves her phone at Dean. “Since you got out five minutes ago, he’s tweeted a dozen times. He says he wants someone to explain to you what Twitter is, tell you to DM him, and then he’ll send you his phone number.”

“OK. What the hell is Twitter?”

Becky spends an annoyingly long time showing Dean all the intricacies of Twitter. There's an extremely popular hashtag—and why he needs to know what a hashtag is at this present moment, he's not sure—where people tell Dean what he's missed in the world in the past several years. He reads several of them and gets progressively angrier at all the things his supposed family and friends have lied to him about for his entire life. Some things are simple, like the  _Alien_ franchise having an absurd number of movies, and some are more complicated, like his parents not actually being his biological parents and maybe never even loving him because they're paid actors. Again, suing _everyone._

"And here's Cas' Twitter," Becky says nervously as she taps away from the screen about Dean's family not actually loving him. 

"Hey, uh," Dean starts, "What happened to Cas after he left? Do you know?"

Becky's face lights up. "He did some interviews with Oprah—oh, god, you're probably the only person in the world who doesn't know who Oprah is. Um, he was forcibly removed from the show. Oh! Hold on, let me find the video."

While Becky taps, Dean scans the crowd and tries not to shudder at the way they're staring at him. 

"OK, watch this," Becky says as she hands Dean the phone.

It's Cas, sitting in a chair in front of a black wall. He looks the same as Dean remembers, but maybe a little sadder. He's not wearing his glasses, just like he doesn't wear them in Dean's dreams. 

"No, I didn't want to lie to him. Of course I didn't want to lie to him," video Cas is saying. "I applied to Rutnam Community College because I wanted the chance to tell Dean Winchester the truth." He smiles sadly before continuing, "I watched the show as a child and stopped after a couple years because I couldn't deal with it. I didn't love Dean the way the world loves Dean."

The interviewer, a black woman who Dean assumes is Oprah, says, "You were in love with him."

"I don't know. I had never met him, but I definitely...felt affection toward him. It wasn't until I met him that I was sure. I was—I _am_ in love with him."

"Do you ever think about sneaking in? Trying to get him out?"

Cas smiles again. "Every goddamn day."

"So why haven't you tried?"

"He'll figure it out. And...when he does, I need to be here. Ready for him."

"You're confident he'll come to you?"

Castiel looks directly at the camera. "I'm the only person he knows. The only one he really knows."

Dean clicks quickly out of the video and yells at Becky to help him message Cas. Once she explains it to him, he takes her phone far away from the crowd and dials the number.

On the seventh ring, a gruff voice answers, “Dean?”

“Took you long enough,” Dean responds.

“Get a car and come straight to my house,” Castiel commands. “Ask anyone for a car. Trust me, they’ll give it to you. Oh, and directions, since you don't have a phone yet. But maybe also get your hands on a baseball cap and some sunglasses, and change your clothes. Not plaid. Come straight here.”

“Cas, what the—”

“Metatron wasn’t lying. You are the most famous man on earth. Lucky for you, you’re also the most loved man on earth. So get a car and get over here.”

Dean doesn't bother asking who Metatron is. “OK. I will. Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me how many other _Alien_ movies there were?”

Cas huffs a small laugh. “Welcome to the future, Dean. There are a lot more disappointing things for you to discover besides the downward spiral of the _Alien_ franchise.”

“Yeah, I know. I can't wait. I’ll see you soon, buddy.”

When Dean announces to the crowd of people that he needs a car, a chorus of voices answer in the affirmative as they all reach into their pockets to get their keys. He picks the one parked the closest, and he doesn’t even hesitate before taking off. He doesn’t have time right now to be afraid of driving.

It only takes half an hour to get to Castiel’s house. Half an hour outside of Rutnam. That’s how far away Castiel has been this entire time.

Dean knocks hard on the door and is still in the process of knocking when it swings open.

A tall man with long, shaggy hair and tired eyes answers.

“Sam.”

“Dean.”

They step forward at the same time and squeeze each other so tight it’s hard to breathe. Dean is crying, but he doesn’t care. It’s not like anybody is watching. Not here, not now. 

When Dean pulls away, he looks at his brother and blurts out, “Are we even actually brothers?”

Sam laughs and drops his head. “Yeah. Well, half brothers I think. Same mom.”

Dean's voice breaks as he asks, "Did you know?"

"No. I was like you, Dean." He rolls his eyes. "Until they killed me. I was a kid, so I didn't really know what the fuck was going on until much later."

"How did they...did they just..."

"I was pulled from the car and then they, uh, knocked me out. I don't really remember much between that and being placed with my adoptive family."

"Jesus."

Dean feels a little dizzy, so he drops his head and doesn't ask anything else. When he lifts his head, he spots Cas in the hallway behind Sam.

Castiel is older than the 20-year-old Dean knew, older than he was in that video, but wearing glasses. They're plastic and blocky, which Dean assumes is probably a fashion trend that just didn’t exist in Rutnam.

“Took you long enough,” Castiel greets.

Dean reaches an arm out but quickly aborts the movement. “So, uh. Either of you guys know a lawyer?”

Sam smiles softly. “I’m in school to be a lawyer for exactly this reason.”

“Great, so I guess I should’ve waited a couple more years for you to get your ass out of law school. Hey, by the way, how the hell did you sneak in?” He points to Cas. “And how'd they force you out? I’m gonna need some answers and I’d like to start with everything I’ve missed between 1997 and 2015.”

“Well, technically, uh, technology-wise, you were stuck more in the late ‘80s,” Sam says awkwardly.

Dean glares at him.

“And socially, you’re more like the ‘50s,” Castiel mumbles.

“What the hell does that—”

“C’mon, we’ll explain everything.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a lot all at once, but for the first time in his life, Dean feels in control. Like he can do anything and nobody can stop him. Nobody’s watching him.

Sam and Cas talk him through iPhones and the Internet and the Marvel Cinematic Universe and fucking snapchat for a solid couple of hours before he starts to nod off and asks if Cas has a guest bedroom. Sam doesn’t actually live with Cas, so he insists on sleeping on the couch so Dean can take the extra room.

Dean doesn’t dream at all that night.

He does, however, wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of angry voices. He can hear Cas, so he pads out into the hallway but stops before rounding the corner.

“Even if he was here, I wouldn’t tell you,” Castiel says sternly.

“So he _is_ here?” an excited voice asks.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave my premises.”

The other person says something under their breath. Then the door slams shut. Castiel storms by a second later and stops short when he sees Dean.

“I’m never gonna be able to go outside again, am I?” Dean asks.

Castiel sighs. “My lawyer is coming over first thing in the morning.” He reaches his hand out and brushes his fingertips along Dean’s arm. “I promise, I’ll do anything to ensure you have a normal life.”

"I, uh, saw that video.”

Castiel squints and tilts his head to the side. 

"Your, um, interview. You said...did you really mean what you said?"

A smile tugs at Castiel’s lips. “Do you really have to ask me that question, Dean?”

Dean takes a step back. “Yeah, I do. I don’t—are you saying—look, man, what happened on that beach…” Dean’s eyes widen as something dawns on him. “Everybody saw that. Everybody...everybody knows. I’ve never told—you were the only—I didn’t—”

“Whoa, whoa, Dean.” Castiel grabs Dean’s shoulders to ground him.

Dean’s breathing levels out.

“They really fucked you over,” Cas says angrily, as if he’s not even talking to Dean.

“What?”

He continues rubbing Dean’s arms to keep him calm. “You’re not perverted. Or sick. Dean, look at me. The world is far more accepting than Rutnam Shore. Producers actually contacted me more than once to consider bringing me back because that’s how badly the audience wanted…”

“Wanted what?” Dean whispers, his eyes glued to Castiel’s.

“They wanted— _want_ us to be together.”

“But—but—I’m not...am I even married? Did Cassie, uh, even love me? Or whatever.” He feels dizzy again.

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together. “You’re not actually married, not legally. And I believe Cassie must’ve loved you, at least for a little while. Maybe not all the time, but I can’t imagine she never loved you.”

“Why not?”

Castiel hangs his head and laughs. “Because, Dean, it’s impossible not to love you.”

They look at each other for a long time. Cas’ eyes keep drifting down to Dean’s lips, but Dean is rooted to his spot.

“So, everybody loves me, huh?” Dean asks cheekily.

“Unanimously, yes.” Cas closes the distance between them with one determined stride. He grabs Dean’s arms and pulls him forward and gives him no time to think before he kisses him. He kisses him slow and steady, allowing Dean to really get a feel for him. “And more importantly, I love you,” he whispers right against Dean’s lips.

Dean jerks away quickly. “You’re sure it’s OK for us to be doing this?”

Cas pulls him back in by his neck and gives him a bruising kiss that warms Dean’s entire body. “I am absolutely sure.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Dean mumbles as he wraps his arms low around Cas’ back and dives back in for another kiss.

Between kisses, Castiel tries to say, “If you’re still—worried about—or in love with—Cassie—we can—stop.”

Dean manages to pull away enough so they can actually have a conversation. “I do love her. But, uh, knowing what I know now...I don’t want to think about it right now. I don’t want to think about anything.”

Cas kisses him gently. “C’mon. I can help you with that.”

Castiel takes Dean by the hand and leads him to his room. It's still a lot to digest, but Dean thinks he might be OK. Maybe the reason why he was drawn to Cas all those years ago is because he was weird, he was different, he was  _other._ Maybe, somehow, Dean knew all along that something was off. And that Cas was real. 

Later, while lying next to each other in bed, Dean asks, "You were real, right?"

It takes Castiel a moment to answer. He puts a hand on Dean's cheek, a solid, tangible weight. "Yes. But they made me lie, Dean. They made me wear an earpiece so they could tell me what to say."

"Wait, everything you said was scripted?"

"I took the earpiece out and destroyed it."

"Did you ever want to tell me? You know, that I was being watched?"

Castiel smiles, and it's not sad at all. "Every goddamn day."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean squirms a little bit, still half-asleep, and then rolls over and throws an arm out. He pulls Cas' warm body closer to him and buries his nose in his hair.

“Five more minutes,” Cas mumbles.

“Who’s arguing?” Dean replies.

“Mmm.”

After several more minutes, Castiel suddenly jerks awake.

“What? What is it?” Dean asks groggily.

Cas removes Dean’s arm from around his waist and sits up. “They’re coming today. In two hours.”

“Ugh, do we have to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Dean lies on his back and petulantly crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Cas scramble around the room for some clothes. He foregoes underwear and pulls on Dean’s pajama pants—the pair he ripped off Dean last night—which are two sizes too big and look absolutely ridiculous on him.

“Come on, Dean, get up. You’ll be mad if you don’t have time to clean.”

That does it for Dean. He rolls out of bed and heads naked toward the bathroom. Sometimes he hates how well Cas knows him.

But, also, he loves it. Because he knows definitively now that Castiel is the only person on earth who knows him really, really, intimately well. And he knows Dean because he lives with him and is married to him and not because he watched him on a TV show.

As Dean is washing his hair, the shower door opens and a hand snakes around his waist and rests on his lower belly where he carries most of his extra weight. A kiss drops to his shoulder from behind.

“Is it my birthday?” Dean asks.

“Happy anniversary,” Cas says.

“It’s not our anniversary.”

“Ten years today. It’s been 10 years since you left Rutnam.” Castiel’s hand moves a little bit more south.

“Oh, right. That’s why they’re coming today.” Dean lets his weight fall back a little bit against Cas. It’s hard to stand upright when he’s getting a sloppy handjob in the shower.

“Sam will be here, too. Silver lining.”

Whenever anyone mentions Sam, Dean feels warm all over. Even though it’s been 10 years, he still can’t believe his brother is _alive_ and lives right down the street.

Castiel’s thumb slips over the tip, and Dean stops thinking about Sam.

They take longer in the shower than they really have time for, but they’re both better off for it. Definitely more relaxed.

Sam shows up an hour before the production crew is scheduled to arrive. He spends the better part of the hour complaining that Dean shouldn’t have to do this and he can’t believe he ever agreed to this in the first place and is he sure that he’s up for—

“Sam,” Dean interrupts. He stops scrubbing the counter and looks directly at his brother. “Once a year. My handsome face on everyone’s TVs for 20 minutes once a year. Small price to pay for a billion dollars.”

Sam shuts up. Dean goes back to scrubbing.

The months after Dean _“got out”_ were particularly frustrating, but the good news is that it distracted Dean from freaking out about other things. He was able to skip his gay panic entirely because having sex with Cas as a way to handle the stress overrode any lingering homophobia.

Dean kept to his word and sued just about every person involved in the 25-year broadcast of _Rutnam Shore._ He subjected himself to the public eye and went through a televised battle in court that lasted nearly a year. In the end, he walked away with a _literal_ billion dollars and all he has to do in return is a bullshit broadcast once a year. 

Once everything was settled, Dean and Cas got married in the middle of Cas’ living room then packed up and moved to Fiji without telling anybody but Sam. Sam, of course, moved to Fiji the second he was done with law school. Dean was surprised he didn’t show up still wearing his cap and gown, diploma in hand.

The film crew spends an hour rearranging Dean and Cas’ back patio, so Dean makes pancakes for Sam and Cas while they wait. When they’re finally called outside, Dean takes Cas’ hand and leads him to the designated couch. Once seated, Dean wraps an arm around his husband and tucks him close against his side. Cas drops a hand to his knee and squeezes it gently.

With cameras rolling, Oprah says dramatically, “Ten years. It’s been _10 years.”_

Before she can ask an actual question, Dean says, “Yeah, only another 16 before I’ve lived more of my life out in the real world than inside a zoo.”

Cas snorts back a laugh.

“And we all look forward to that day, Dean,” she responds without missing a beat. “Now tell us, how is your life different now than it was 10 years ago? And I don’t mean your time in Rutnam Shore—I mean how is it different from the day you got out?”

Dean looks at Cas and then back to the interviewer. “Well, I’m married to a Cas instead of a Cassie. Probably gained a few pounds.”

“No, you’ve lost weight,” Cas interrupts. He looks straight at the camera as he says, “I keep him active.”

Dean shifts awkwardly. “Yeah, um, thanks for that visual, Cas.”

“You know, it’s such a pleasure interviewing you two each year knowing that everyone watching at home is so happy that you’re together. Of course, the question everyone was asking since the start of the show was—”

“How will it end,” Castiel finishes for her. “I almost got kicked off the show the second I quoted that to Dean.”

“Like I had any fucking clue what you were talking about,” Dean mutters.

“The clip of that scene, of Castiel asking that question, has more views than any other video on YouTube. There are conspiracy theories that, Cas, you knew what was going to happen. That it was planned from the beginning that we would end up here.”

“Please, it would be ridiculous to give Metatron that much credit. I was simply being a smartass.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to stifle a laugh.

After a few more bullshit questions, they bring Sam in and interview all three of them together. Dean is pretty sure they do interviews with Benny and Cassie and his fake parents and anybody else involved in the show, too, but it’s not like he’s going to sit down and watch the special each year. He doesn’t want to know what’s going on in any of those people’s lives. He understands that they were just doing their jobs and he's mostly forgiven them for it, but it still hurts to think that almost none of it was real. 

It’s early evening by the time the crew finally leaves, so Dean, Cas and Sam eat a quiet dinner at home and then Sam heads out so Dean and Cas can go to bed early.

As soon as they’re tucked into bed, they make out for a little bit with no intention of progressing any further. After a few minutes, Dean pulls back.

“What’s on your mind?” Castiel asks as he strokes his thumb along Dean’s cheek.

“I used to have these dreams. Almost every night, I’d dream that Sam and I were driving on a highway in a classic—oh, it was a ‘67 Chevy Impala. I looked it up once. We’d, uh, drive around the country fighting ghosts and vampires and stuff. You showed up, too, sometimes, and you always had on this, uh, really ugly trench coat. I have no idea why.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cas deadpans. “But I’m sure you have a point, so continue.”

“I never told anybody. Whenever I felt out of control or like somebody was watching me, I’d remember that I’ve always got my dreams. I can always go to sleep and nobody can watch me there. The dream version of you would tell me to take control of my life. I’ve never told anybody this. It’s the only thing…”

“The only thing you know for sure nobody on earth knows about you?”

Dean looks at his face for a long time before answering. “Yeah.”

“And you’re trusting me with it?”

Dean smiles. “Yeah. I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, like, The Truman Show is one of my favorite movies and I've always wondered a) what the fuck happened after Truman stepped out that door, b) what would happen if Truman didn't fit the traditional, non-controversial mold of straight/thin/straitlaced, and c) what if the audience was in the dark with Truman. 
> 
> If you've never seen The Truman Show, I'm sorry I didn't tag this fic properly and I hope you weren't wildly confused. If you HAVE seen The Truman Show, please let me know how early on in the fic you clued in (if at all) that this was a Truman Show AU.
> 
> I know there's a lot of moral ambiguity in this, but I tried really hard to make Metatron the only true bad guy.
> 
> Thank you to [Maddie](http://ozonecologne.tumblr.com/post/159643263183/art-masterpost-for-mnwoods-fic-rutnam-shore) for the lovely artwork!!!
> 
> Thanks to my editors!!! [Charlotte](http://casthegrumpy.tumblr.com/) and [Jessie,](http://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/) the real MVPs. Jessie guessed that the suspicious neighbor was Bobby, and honestly I didn't plan it that way but I liked her idea so I added it in. 
> 
> I'm [deancasheadcanons](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and [this is my website.](https://maddmadeshop.com/)


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